Chang San-Feng was meditating on Wu-Tang Mountain one day, when he observed a snake and a crane engaged in mortal combat.  Every time the snake struck, the crane would gracefully evade; every time the crane attacked, the snake would quickly coil.  Inspired by their contest, the monk created the “Thirteen Movements” (or “Thirteen Postures” or “Thirteen Stances”) that later became Tai Chi Ch'uan.

Or so the story goes.

 Whether Chang San-Feng existed at all is a matter of scholarly debate.  Chronicles of the Ming dynasty indicate that he did, from 1391 to 1459 A.D.  Other records credit him with founding the Wu-Tang Temple almost two centuries earlier; still others make him a man of a much later time.   The four-hundred year span of possibility, the difficulties implicit in verifying the authorship of “his” writings, plus the folktale quality of Tai Chi Ch'uan's origin story have led some to conclude Chang San-Feng is a literary construct.

Though Master Chang and the snake-crane battle may be apocryphal, the connection between the Thirteen Movements and Taoism is beyond dispute.  The four fundamental Taoist principles are implicit in the legend:  observed and observer comprise a single system [Oneness]; the contest is one of opposing strategies (attack/defend, advance/retreat, strike/yield) [Dynamic Balance]; the combatants employ these strategies in an alternating pattern [Cyclical Growth]; the use of one strategy triggers the use of its opposite [Harmonious Action].  These principles are also basic to the modern forms of the practice.  Tai Chi Ch'uan is ubiquitously described as “meditation in movement” or “moving meditation.”  Both phrases are unnecessarily nebulous.  Tai Chi Ch'uan is Taoism in motion, the kinesthetic Way.

The Taoist connection gives the Thirteen Movements respectably long ideological roots reaching back to the 6th century B.C.  Even so, as philosophy-based, health-enhancing exercise systems go, it is a relatively late addition to China’s ancient and extensive roster.  It may or may not have been conceived in the mind of an individual monk; almost certainly it was born on Wu-Tang Mountain; unquestionably its existence was fostered by the pervasive spiritual-martial arts ethos of its native land.

The principles of Taoism indelibly etched upon the story are clear evidence of Tai Chi Ch'uan’s philosophic antecedents.  Its earliest precursor in terms of form is likely China’s first martial art, Wu-chi chih hsi, “Movements of the Five Creatures,” aka “Five Animal Games,” aka "Five Animal Frolics,"

By all accounts, it was Wang Chung-Yueh who eventually elaborated on Chang San-Feng’s writings, theories and practices (or the writings, theories and practices attributed to Chang San-Feng) and linked the original thirteen stances in continuous sequences, creating a form akin to contemporary Tai Chi Ch'uan.  Wang’s student, Chiang Fa, brought this form to Henan and taught it to the Chen family.  Or, in an alternate reality, the Chens were already practicing Tai Chi Ch'uan, and Chiang Fa acquired the form from them.  A third possibility is that Chiang Fa discovered the Chens practicing their family martial art, Pao Chui (“Cannon Pounding”), and integrated elements of the Chen system into the revamped Thirteen Movements.  However that moment in time actually played out, Chen Style Tai Chi Ch'uan is today universally regarded as the oldest existing form of the art.

Henan is an east-central province.  The Southern School (not to be confused with modern-day Southern-Style or “soft” Tai Chi) was founded when Chiang Fa and his kung fu brother Chen Chou-T’ung quarreled, and the latter left the Henan fold.  The Southern School flowered only briefly; all present-day schools and styles are descendents of the Northern School and the Chen family legacy.

Tai Chi Ch'uan practitioners who insist their style alone is authentic and disparage other traditions as degradations of the “true” art are perhaps unaware that of Chiang Fa’s most notable disciples – 1st generation students who learned the system directly from him – none went on to teach it as it had been taught to them.  Chen You-Heng branched off into “New Frame Style.”  Chen Yau-Pun established the “New School” that later produced Zhao Bao and Hu Lei styles.  Chen Chang-Hsing trained in Chiang Fa’s Thirteen Movements and his family’s Pao Chui systems, perfected their fusion, and taught it as “Old Frame Style.”

That Tai Chi Ch'uan’s pre-history is rife with stylistic divergence runs contrary to modern efforts to standardize the form (some of them very successful), and, arguably, contrary to the nature of art itself.  True art is not immutable, but an energetic interplay of defined structure and indefinable spirit, of prescribed techniques and the unbridled soul.  Renee Fleming, Maria Callas and Leontyne Price may perform the same operatic repertoire, but if their renditions of “Un Bel Di” all sounded exactly alike, who would bother to listen?  What makes these sopranos worth hearing is the unique and inimitable quality of their individual artistic expression.

Putting a personal stamp on the Thirteen Movements was a privilege initially reserved for Chen family members.  The martial arts of the day were not only family traditions, but closely guarded family secrets.  (How it came to pass that the quarrel between Chen Chou-T’ung and Chiang Fa ended in the former departing for southern climes and the latter becoming the undisputed martial arts master of the Chen clan must be a fine tale for the telling.)

When the Chens refused to accept Yang Lu-Chan (1799 – 1872) of Hebei Province, Guang Ping Prefecture, Yongnian County as a student, therefore, it surely came as no surprise.   The surprise was that Yang did not immediately return home.  Some sources have him staying on as a servant in the Chen household, others make the less likely claim that despite the emphatic rejection, Yang elected to hang about the Chen village “without any rancor or disappointment.”  All sources agree that during his stay, Yang managed to spy on the Chen training sessions and practiced the family art on his own.  In time, Yang’s vastly-improved skills aroused suspicion.  Presumably to teach him a lesson, Chen Chang-Hsing (“Old Frame Style”) insisted he spar with his students.  When Yang defeated them all, Master Chen was so impressed, he took Yang as a disciple and taught him his martial arts secrets.  Like his teachers before him, Yang mastered the form, then made it his own.

The information that Chen taught Yang his secrets is separate from and as significant as the fact that he taught Yang the form.  While being born into a given family automatically qualified a child for training in the family trade, craft or art, it did not automatically make a child privy to the family’s most precious trade, craft or artistic secrets.  The proverbial “secret move” the master refuses to teach even his best students – though those students be his sons – is no fabrication.  Patriarchs of 19th century China were no fonder of being shown-up by their progeny than are the dads of today.

This penchant for intra-familial, as well as extra-familial secrecy is germane to tracing a form’s lineage.  With masters hoarding their “killer” moves and sharing the deepest mysteries of their art with none but a select few, practices must and do degrade over time.  That a system has been passed down through several generations of masters all of whom share the same family name is no guarantee that it has retained the core teachings that once made it a formidable art.

When Yang Lu-Chan returned to Guang Ping and began giving instruction, his students did not get the “full monty.”  Yang shared all his secrets only with his two sons, Pan-Hou and Chien-Hou.  “Shared” is perhaps too benign a term.  Yang drilled his boys in martial arts with such brutality, the elder attempted to escape by running away and the younger repeatedly tried to hang himself.  The contemporary perception of Tai Chi Ch'uan as a gentle practice for gentle people is belied by evidence that at least some of its first masters were fierce, uncompromising men who esteemed the art for the martial prowess it conferred.  Yang Lu-Chan never refused a challenge.  Indeed, in his determination to prove his martial superiority, he sought out opponents against whom he could test his skills and ruthlessly denied the reticent among them the option of declining the match.  Yang’s skills were unbeatable.  His spotless record of victories earned him the sobriquet “Yang the Unsurpassed” and earned his martial art system the respect reflected in its name:  Tai Chi Ch'uan – “Supreme Ultimate Fist.”